


Fever Pitch

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jemma and Hunter kinda make out a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Hunter are undercover as a couple at a baseball game.</p><p>Fitz and Bobbi are not jealous. Not at all. </p><p>Canon divergent, before the Real Shield invasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Pitch

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting on my computer for ages, and figured us FitzSimmons folks could use a little mindless fluff since season 3 insists on tearing our hearts apart in the best way possible.

It all starts with Coulson’s mission briefing. 

“Simmons and Hunter, you two will be inside the stadium, posing as a couple on a date,” Coulson tells them as he tosses a jersey to Hunter and a baseball cap to Jemma. 

Hunter grins over at his fellow Brit. “How’s your American?” 

Skye snorts as Jemma blushes faintly. “Well, it’s um—it’s not the best.” 

“That’s an understatement. You should hear her imitation of Ward,” Skye informs him helpfully. “Go on, Jemma, do it.” 

Coulson rolls his eyes at his agents and cuts them off. “Just stick with being British, alright? If anyone asks, I’m sure Simmons will have prepared a very elaborate backstory.” 

The scientist beams and Hunter suddenly looks worried. “You’re not going to make me memorize a bunch of crap, are you?” 

“Yes, she will,” Coulson tells him. “Skye, May, and Mack will be locating the device underneath the field and disabling it. You two need to keep an eye out for our enhanced friend. Jemma will try to hit him with the stabilizing serum. If she needs backup, then Lance is up.” 

Fitz looks nervously between Jemma and Hunter, wringing his hands together. “What about Agent Morse and I, sir?” 

“You two will hold down the base. We could use you on comms, Fitz.” 

He huffs, trying to keep his obvious discomfort from showing. He and Jemma were finally on good terms again; he still spent half of his days in the garage, but he’d started spending the other half back in the lab with Jemma. They had reinstituted their weekly movie nights for just the two of them, and she’d slowly begun invading his space again. 

But of course she needs Hunter with her. Someone who could protect her if the unstable mad scientist they’re tracking down tries to hurt her. He glances over and finds that Bobbi’s brow is furrowed as well as she examines Jemma and Hunter whispering to one another on the other side of the table.

Hunter picks up the blue cap and squashes it onto Jemma’s curled hair, and to Fitz’s discomfort, she giggles at him. Bobbi’s jaw tightens and she turns away from her co-workers, listening intently to Coulson’s last remarks. As soon as they’re dismissed, she breezes out of the room and Fitz trails awkwardly behind Jemma and Hunter.

“Ready for the best date of your life, love?” he teases. She shoves him lightly. 

“Luckily for you, you’ve not got much competition.” 

“Now that shocks me,” Lance says with a wink. She blushes and mumbles something about preparing their backstory. With a little hop, she dashes off to the common area. 

Skye appears suddenly at his left elbow. “I don’t think anyone in human history has ever been so jealous before.” 

“What?” he barks defensively. “Jealous? Me? Of Hunter? That’s—that’s just—ridiculous, honestly. You’re—you’re the one who seems jealous.” 

Skye scoffs and stares at him in blatant disbelief. “You looked like you wanted to off and clock the guy, Fitz. Which, don’t get me wrong, I would love to watch.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She grins at him and squeezes his shoulder. “Well, just in case you want to keep tabs, I’ll hack into the stadium’s security cameras for you in the comms room. You know, just to keep an eye out.” 

Fitz knows that he’s supposed to tell her not to do that, but he also tells himself that he doesn’t want to watch the feed to make sure that Hunter doesn’t try anything funny. It’s just to check up on the team. The entire team. 

And that’s where he finds himself three hours later, arms crossed firmly over his chest as he leans back in his chair and watches Hunter and Jemma enter the stadium, clasped hands swinging between them. He hears someone come in behind him, and he correctly assumes that it is Bobbi. She silently occupies the chair to his right and glues her eyes to the screen. 

“There’s the mark,” Bobbi points out, indicating the man in line a few positions in front of them. Fitz nods in acknowledgement, bouncing his knee as he watches the slow-moving action. 

“This is almost as tedious as watching a baseball game,” Fitz complains. Bobbi laughs and makes a joke about the United Kingdom’s disrespect for American sports, but he barely hears her as the mark turns and looks suspiciously at Jemma and Hunter. 

Jemma meets his eyes and smiles, tugging on Hunter’s hand. 

“Babe, can we get some hot dogs?” she practically sings. “They’re an American staple!” 

He chuckles fondly, bopping her on the brim of the hat and leaning down to give her a kiss underneath it. 

“Of course, love. Anything you want.” 

Fitz risks a glance over at Bobbi, who becomes extremely tense at the display of PDA on the screen as Hunter deepens the kiss and tilts Jemma backward. He awkwardly clears his throat and decides to just ask the question that he’s been wondering all morning. 

“So are you and him—uh, are you--?” 

“Are you and Jemma?” Bobbi shoots back. 

This keeps him quiet for a long while. 

*** 

The line starts moving, and Jemma gently pushes Hunter away while sneaking a peak at their mark. 

“Good work,” she tells him. He winks at her. 

“Hope you made a note of that for debrief,” he teases, throwing an arm around her waist and slipping a small device into her back pocket. “That’s a tracker. In case we get split up.” 

“Thanks,” she tells him, shifting a little uncomfortably when he doesn’t remove his hand right away. “I can’t say I’m used to behaving this way.” 

“It’s obvious,” Hunter tells her candidly. “Loosen up. Let’s grab a beer. He’s stopped at the next stand over.” 

“I don’t think we can drink on the job—“ 

“Simmons, have a damn beer,” May says in her ear. “You need to loosen up. We’re having some difficulty getting where we need to be, so we need you two to stay on him.” 

Jemma lets out a stressed breath and nods, letting Hunter lead her to the beer stand. He gripes about the inflated price of the drink loudly, and she plays the part of placating girlfriend while keeping a close eye on their mark. He seems to be keeping an eye out as well, and she’s forced to invade Hunter’s space again, pulling him down quickly for a long kiss. 

When she releases him, he mumbles against her mouth. “For a lab rat, you’re not half bad at that, Simmons.” 

“Simmons had boyfriends,” Skye corrects over their earpiece. “She likes to make that clear.” 

Jemma feels her face heat up and she raises her beer to her mouth, taking a long chug. She can only pray that it’s a particularly strong one. Hunter nods toward the section where they’ll be sitting just behind the target. As they shuffle into their seats, Jemma begins her pre-planned speech. 

“I’m so glad we made it,” she gushes. “I can’t believe we moved here so long ago and have never been to a baseball game!” 

“Yeah, well, we’ve had other things to worry about,” Hunter converses as he settles in to the uncomfortable chair. He throws a casual arm around Jemma and sips from his beer as she leans into him. 

“Yes, my parents were quite upset when we ran off, weren’t they?” 

Hunter gives her an unamused glance but plays along regardless. “Just couldn’t help myself, love. I had to have you.” 

“Oh, Lance,” she sighs, voice raspy. He notices that the man they’re tracking tenses at the sound, and he gives Jemma a little squeeze to let her know that she’s succeeded in making him sufficiently uncomfortable. He sweeps in for a kiss underneath her hat and manages to make his phone clatter to the floor. He breaks away from Jemma with a quick curse and bends down, smoothly picking up the phone and dropping a small, button-like machine that immediately magnetizes onto the tiny metal bracket on the target’s jeans. 

Hunter pops back up and gives Jemma a subtle thumbs up. She beams back at him and throws her legs over his, jostling the man in front of her. 

“So sorry!” she fakes. Hunter rolls his eyes, absently stroking her calves. He taps her leg and then traces letters onto the bare skin there. She laughs and twists her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck with a little nod. He grins back at her and she kisses him one more time for good measure. 

*** 

“They’re laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” Fitz asks grumpily. “I mean, you’ve done this before.” 

“Well I’ve certainly done that before,” Bobbi points out bitterly as Jemma practically crawls into Hunter’s lap. 

Fitz makes a low growling noise and Bobbi claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. She finally answers his question from earlier.

“Hunter and I—were. But I told him a bit ago that we needed to cool things off.” 

Fitz just bites his lip and leans forward toward the screen. “So he’s not—attached. Great.” 

Bobbi purses her lips and shifts uncomfortably. “I guess not.” 

Their mark stands suddenly and slides out of the aisle. Jemma perks up almost immediately and stands. 

“I’ve got to use the loo,” she tells Hunter. “If I’m not back soon, assume I’m lost and come save me.” 

He laughs adoringly, tapping her on the ass as she walks away. “Alright, don’t die out there.” 

Bobbi explodes, causing Fitz to flinch against the sudden noise. 

“Are you kidding me?!” she rages, standing from the chair and pacing back and forth. “Now he’s just doing this to piss me off. That’s our thing. He can’t just—that’s not—“ 

“Bloody rude of him, to just smack her like that,” Fitz grumbles moodily. 

A soft voice comes through the comms and he sits up straight. 

“Fitz?” 

“Jemma? You okay?” 

“Yes, I just need you to tell me which way to go.” 

“He went to the right,” he informs her. “He’s going toward the staircase.” 

Jemma huffs as she mumbles apologies to sports fans blocking her way. “I’ve lost sight of him. Keep me posted.” 

“Yep, down the staircase he goes.” 

Jemma finally pushes through the crowd and jogs quickly down the cement stairs, turning onto the next flight and colliding with their target. 

“Hello, baby,” he says mockingly. Jemma backs up a step and Fitz stands in the comms room, fingers turning white on the edge of the table. Bobbi jumps in, putting on a headset. 

“Jemma, stay calm. Act offended.” 

“Excuse me?” she splutters. “That’s a bit of a strange thing to say to a woman you’ve not met. I’m here with my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, your boyfriend,” he drawls, stepping closer to her. “You seem a little lost trying to find the bathroom.” 

“I’ve never been here before,” she says defensively. “There’s not enough bloody signs in this country.” 

She takes another step backward and hopes that Lance notices that her tracker has halted on the stairs. 

“Simmons,” May comes in. “We’ve reached the device, but the detonator is in his watch. You need to get it.” 

“Oh god,” Fitz groans, dropping his face in his hands. 

On the screen, Bobbi watches Lance jump up and race toward the stairs. He shoves through the crowd much more aggressively than Jemma had, and arrives just in time to watch her step forward and pull the miniature ICER that Fitz had recently developed. She holds it at her side discreetly. 

“I’m going to need your watch, baby,” she practically hisses. Lance lets out a shocked laugh and intervenes, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it behind his back. He quickly undoes the watch and tosses it to Jemma before shooting an ICER bullet into him. 

“Oh, help! I think this man is hurt!” Hunter shouts, grabbing Jemma’s hand and pulling her up the stairs. 

“Did that guy just--?” a passerby marvels loudly.

Hunter grabs Jemma and backs her up against a wall quickly, drawing her into a heated kiss and roaming his hands over her sides. Jemma nods into the kiss and slips the small ICER still in her hand into the front of his jeans as she tugs him forward by his waistband. She wraps her arms around his neck as he kisses his way down her throat, and she has just enough visual to twist the watch dial and disable the detonator. 

“Done,” Jemma murmurs. “We’re good to go.” 

Hunter nips at her neck before pulling back. “Already? Damn, I’m good.” 

“Ew, Hunter,” Jemma sighs, but she sounds amused. “May, how are we doing?” 

“Mack has it disabled. Mission accomplished. Good work, Simmons.” 

“What about me?” Hunter yelps indignantly. 

“You did good too, Hunter,” Skye says significantly. Jemma wonders what she’s trying to communicate to him as Hunter drags her back to the rendezvous point to get on the quinjet. She’ll worry about that later. 

When they touch down at the playground, Hunter playfully flicks her cap. “We need to talk.” 

Jemma sighs, playing along. “I think so, too. Listen, Hunter, it’s been fun and you’re a really great guy—“ 

“Hey! I get to break up with you!” 

Jemma looks affronted. “You think that you would ever break up with me?! I would rock your world, Lance Hunter. I’d be the best girlfriend you ever had.” 

Then she freezes.

“Don’t tell Bobbi I said that, please and thanks.” 

Hunter laughs heartily and before she knows it, he’s swept her up over his shoulder and begins jogging her through the base. 

“Bob! Bobbi!” 

“Stop it!” Jemma shrieks. “Hunter, put me down!” 

Bobbi and Fitz come running from the comms room, freezing in place as they take in the two Brits in front of them. Hunter doesn’t put her down, hoisting her further onto his shoulder and tapping her on the ass again. 

“Jemma here thinks she’s a better girlfriend then you.” 

“I said no such thing!” Jemma loudly protests. “Well I did but it was—it’s not like—you know I think you’re amazing!” 

Bobbi rolls her eyes. “Hunter, put her down. She’s already been stuck with your paws all over her for too long.” 

Hunter raises his eyebrows and lowers Jemma to the floor. She huffs and takes off her baseball cap, running a hand through her hat hair. 

“I’d like it on the record that I broke up with him,” Jemma says primly. This earns a laugh from Bobbi, but Fitz remains silent, fists clenched at his sides. Bobbi glances over at him and bites her lip. 

“Hunter, come on, I need to debrief you.” 

“Do I need to come?” Jemma asks. Bobbi shakes her head and drags Lance off, mumbling something to him about taking things too far. 

“She’s a good kisser!” Hunter exclaims. Bobbi smacks him, and then they’re out of sight. 

Jemma smiles brightly at Fitz. “That went much better than I expected!” 

He snorts derisively. “Yeah, looked like you really enjoyed yourself, Simmons.” 

She blinks at him, stepping back and crossing her arms defensively “I’m sorry Coulson made you stay back, but—“ 

He goes to brush past her, eyes trained on the floor, but she stops him. 

“We promised not to do this anymore!” Jemma protests. “We’re being honest with each other, remember?” 

Fitz remembers the promise they’d made after the incident with Skye. “Yeah. No more walking away. Right.” 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, concerned. He can’t stand to look at her, and he’s not sure how to tell her that watching Hunter kiss her and hold her hand all day had left barbs in his veins and ice in his gut that just won’t go away. 

“Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tired, that’s all.” 

She raises an eyebrow, utterly unconvinced. “Fitz.” 

“Jemma.” 

She huffs, lightly stomping her foot on the ground. “Talk to me.” 

Her voice is a borderline whine, and he shakes his head at her. “It’s just—I didn’t—I wasn’t a huge fan of—of you and Hunter.” 

Jemma’s brow furrows and she cocks her head to the side. Her pouted lips suddenly open in realization, and he feels his face burn hot. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” he replies lamely. “So I just—I just wanna be alone, okay? I’m really uh, I’m really trying, Jemma, but I just need some time to—get over you.” 

He goes to leave, but is pulled back by her hand in his. 

“What if I don’t want you to?” she blurts out, words so close together that they sound like auditory cursive. 

Fitz freezes, staring at her with wide eyes which thinly veil hope. “What?” 

“We never spoke about what you said to me at the bottom of the ocean. And I think we should. Talk about it.” 

He swallows, hard, and his eyes drift unconsciously toward her mouth. She watches as he shakes himself out of it. 

“Jemma—“ 

She surges forward suddenly, pressing her lips firmly to his and forcing herself not to pull away as he stiffens. She slowly counts down from 10 in her mind, and when she hits 1 and he still hasn’t kissed her back, she tears herself away and swallows her growing panic. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “God, I’m sorry.” 

Before Fitz can stop her, she’s turning to leave and she’s nearly gone. He finally snaps out of it and jogs after her. 

“Jemma, wait!” 

She freezes but doesn’t turn around, and he exhales a shaking breath as he catches up to her. 

“Do you—do you, uh, have—feelings for me?” he stammers. Her hands form fists and she turns around slowly, nodding all the while. She looks like she might cry and it twists something up inside of him. 

“I know I’m too late,” she mumbles, staring at the floor. “That’s okay. I just—“ 

He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Her eyes snap to him, part accusatory. 

“Jemma, that is the absolute daftest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

This time he’s the one who moves, scooping her up in his arms and nuzzling his face into her hair. 

“We still have a lot to talk about,” he murmurs. She nods into his chest but her hands are tangled in his shirt, and he knows that she’s not going to walk away this time. Neither will he. 

He pulls away from her just enough to look down at her, and the twinkle in her eye halts all thoughts of discussion from his mind. 

“But we can do that later,” he tells her, capturing her lips with hers. He’s not sure how long they stay wrapped around each other, but they are eventually interrupted by an indignant voice. 

“Oi! You certainly wasted no time getting over me!” 

Fitz rolls his eyes and gives Hunter the finger as he places a kiss on Jemma’s forehead.


End file.
